In Time
by FlyYouFools
Summary: 5-year-old Henry Mills wants to take dance classes. His mother is reluctant, until she meets his teacher, Miss Emma. It can also be found on AO3. Written for Swan Queen Week Winter 2017. Cover by the amazing mollidraws.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: It's been two years since my last SQ story ended and I've had no spark to write them again, sadly. So you can imagine my surprise 10 days ago when I was hit upside the head with this idea. Then I heard SQ Week was on the way. Obviously, this story was meant to be. I hoped for it to be done in time for the final day, but it is not. It's about 75% done. I'll post chapters every few days, which will buy me enough time to finish and not feel rushed. Unending thanks to Angie, who has been an amazing sounding board, beta, cheerleader, and friend — you wouldn't have this story were it not for her. Wonderful to see you again, I hope you enjoy.

The black Mercedes smoothly rolled to a stop in front of the old mill building, a mix of dirt and gravel crunching underneath $3,200 worth of tires. Regina Mills glanced out her driver's side window, casting a wary eye on the structure, which had clearly seen better days — a generous assessment.

Three worn stairs led to a small porch, such as it was, which needed a good sanding and staining. A faded white door sat on the porch, standing out among the red brick facade. The entrance was one of a dozen around the complex, a maze of buildings that currently housed a variety of small businesses; one whole building, still empty, displayed an impressive collection of broken windows on the third floor. A sign sporting fading black letters above the door weakly proclaimed "Step In Time Dance Academy." _Dance Academy_ , Regina sniffed to herself. The night before she had shown her best friend the building on Google Maps. "Looks like a serial killer factory," Kathryn quipped. "If you see a clown anywhere on the grounds, _run_."

Regina checked herself in the rear-view mirror — crimson lipstick still perfectly in place, muted floral scarf tied smartly over a black raincoat. Summer had ended two days earlier, and Mother Nature wasted no time in sending temperatures south. A light mist fell, bringing a wet chill to the air, the clouds and overall grey of the day adding to the somewhat depressing surroundings.

"So, sweetheart," she began, trying not to betray her true feelings on the undertaking at hand. "Are you ready to go in? Sure you want to give this a try?" Her rich voice held that optimistic-yet-cautious fake tone that anyone over 7 could ferret out, yet lucky for her, Henry was only 5.

"Yeah!"

She couldn't help but smile at the small, yet enthusiastic, voice that piped up from the booster seat in the back. Nor could she stop the wide smile that lit up his whole face, brown eyes huge and ready for adventure.

"OK, let's go."

Holding hands, they navigated the empty parking lot and _Carefully_ , Regina thought, walked up the stairs, which looked like they could give at any minute. Yet they didn't make a sound and were surprisingly firm under her black dress boots. Once at the top, Henry made for the door and entered, with nary a glance behind him.

Regina followed suit, and was quickly assaulted by a riot of color. While the outside looked nearly abandoned, the inside — from the smell of it — sported a fresh coat of paint, bright buttercup yellow. Two rows of metal folding chairs lined the long hallway, with 8x10 headshots hung on one wall proclaiming, STAFF. Drop-ceiling tiles above featured hand prints of all sizes, in all colors. The entrance to a large rehearsal room sat opposite what served as an office, a window and counter cut out of the wall.

"Afternoon, may I help you?" A smiling voice interrupted Regina's review, the brunette starting a touch. To the right, she found a grey haired woman sitting at the front desk, eyes smiling at her over glasses that dropped halfway down her nose.

'Yes, sorry. I'm Regina Mills. My son Henry is joining the 4 o'clock mini hip hop class."

The woman, who looked every bit a grandmother from central casting — glasses chain included — expertly tapped away at a laptop, never taking her eyes off Regina. "Nice to meet you, I'm Eugenia Lucas, everyone calls me Miss U." Regina smiled politely, mentally noting she would do no such thing. "Yes, we have Mr. Henry right here. Looks like he's registered and paid. Do you have his—"

Before the woman could finish, Regina produced a sheet of paper: "—health record. Yes, right here."

Eugenia chuckled to herself, reaching for the document. _Of course you do._ After 22 years running a dance studio, she could spot a Type A Mom right away. "Need me to copy this?"

"No, I copied it for you."

"Thanks much." Type As were not shy, and sometimes demanding, but Eugenia admitted they did make her day easier. They paid on time and paid attention to the myriad details, especially around recital time. She's take 'em over the Nice Flaky Moms any day.

"Mills...Are you by any chance related to—"

"Yes, he was my father." _He_ and _was_ poked Regina sharply in the chest, the memory of her deceased father springing to life. For 34 years, Henry Mills had run the G &T Woolen Mill that spanned this entire complex in Denwick for 109 years, working his way up from day laborer to night school, to eventually the corner office. The mill was the lifeblood of the town, until 20 years ago when cheap labor made lucrative manufacturing jobs run south from New England like water through a sieve. Mills from Maine to Rhode Island shuttered one by one, like dominos. Henry Mills did his damndest to fight it, downsizing operations over and over, trying to save some jobs — any jobs — until the North Carolina owners finally pulled the plug altogether. Regina was convinced guilt over his inability to fight economics beyond his control contributed to his death at a young 62.

"He was a lovely man. My Bruce worked in the dye department for 43 years. Always had wonderful things to say about your dad. He loved that mill and the employees."

A heartfelt smile warmed Regina's face. "He did, truly."

"How wonderful your son will continue that fine name."

Brown eyes widened, she had never thought about it in quite that way. "Yes, he will," she agreed, the thought settling into her head.

"Anyway…" Eugenia's sharp continuation jolted Regina out of her reverie. "Young Henry here can dance in bare feet today. He'll need hip hop shoes, you can get them at any dance store. Closest is On Your Toes in Islington, but you'll pay more." Regina didn't miss the sharp tone around the mention of the neighboring town in which she lived. Working-class Denwick and neighboring Islington had a friendly (and sometimes not-so-friendly) rivalry. Islington was home to everyone from Denwick who made some money. The joke went that you could enter the dining room of the upscale Italian Islington restaurant Benne on a Saturday night, announce "Your mother from Denwick is on the phone," and every patron would hop out of his seat to take the call. "They're cheaper at Dance Mania in Elizabeth. Class is 45 minutes, recital is in June. His teacher will be…" Eugenia scanned a printout hanging to her left, "...hold on, new season. Still getting my head around it...oh, Emma. Miss Emma. She's incredible. He'll _love_ her."

Eugenia returned to her laptop, tip-tapping away until Regina cleared her throat. "Excuse me, but do I stay for class or leave?"

"Oh! I'm sorry. I forgot that part. You're welcome to stay, there's a small observation window into every rehearsal room, but it does get crowded. Only 3 rooms and…" she clicked away at her laptop "...475 students this year. Most of the parents of the younger ones stay. Do whatever makes you feel comfortable. If you have any questions, Mrs. Mills, you just let me know. One rehearsal room is on this floor, two are one floor down. Minis are in...Green today — the room up here."

"Ms. Mills," Regina corrected automatically, trying to parse the avalanche of information that just slid her way. _And if I wanted to be comfortable, I wouldn't be here_. She was shocked Henry requested dance classes. Sure, he liked to bop around the house and loved music. "Mom, turn it UP!" he'd holler from the backseat, the second the radio caught half a beat of up-tempo current hits. Today's music was not Regina's taste at all, but soon enough Preset 1 in the Mercedes was HITZ 106, the Greater Boston area's #1 station.

 _It's Kathryn's fault_ , she noted for the umpteenth time, mentally chuckling at how many times that statement had crossed her mind over the years. She had seen Henry dancing around the house one day and within earshot of the boy suggested, "Regina, you should put him in dance class." Of course Henry heard it. "Dance class? What's THAT?" he asked, eyes wide.

"Of course, I…" Eugenia covered, but was quickly saved by the door opening and, Regina swore, half an elementary school entering — girls chattering, mothers walking and talking in pairs, each faster than the next. She quickly found a seat across from the 2'x2' observation window in the hallway-cum-waiting room and sat next to Henry, who already had his shoes off and was bouncing on his toes. He was wearing a white T-shirt and black gym shorts, the dress code for hip hop classes. She had read the studio's website. Of course.

Bodies tall and small streamed into the front door, which never seemed to close. Parents, obvious studio veterans, stopped and talked to Eugenia, asking about her summer or kids, while dancers plopped down wherever they fell and changed into their shoes. Regina spied a large chalkboard on the far wall, which had a section for each rehearsal room and the rundown of classes for the day. Preschool classes had run that morning, and everything from tap and ballet to Irish step and musical theatre would go through 9:30 tonight. No wonder Step In Time was voted the Reader's Choice dance studio in the area for 8 years running, it certainly had a huge clientele.

As Regina studied the board, her view was suddenly blocked by a toned torso and a set of firm breasts that stopped an inch from her nose.

"Oh! Sorry!"

She followed the apologetic voice north and found herself locked into a pair of smiling green eyes and fair features. A shock of blonde hair was piled on top of the woman's head in a loose bun. On either side of Regina's head, bare arms braced the lithe body against the wall, trying not to topple face-first onto the brunette's lap.

"Sorry, Miss Emma!"

Regina snapped herself back into focus, tearing her eyes away from the breasts, down to a tiny girl, who was tangled in between the blonde's legs.

"Lizzie, what are you doing down there?" Emma laughed. Regina snuck a glance to her right and left, and found defined biceps at attention as the women held herself off the wall — and Regina.

"I dunno."

A deep chuckle rolled out of the blonde. "Can you get out from under my legs? I can't twist an ankle the first day of the season and I can't land on this poor lady." She punctuated the last statement with a wink at Regina.

Tiny dancer extracted, Emma pushed off the wall and away from Regina with a slow exhale. "I'm very sorry about that," she smiled again.

"No problem," Regina muttered, eyes following the blonde as she strode toward a rehearsal room. The white tank top hugged her stomach tightly, and a loud patterned pair of dance tights showcased a spectacular ass and firm thighs. The tights ended just under the woman's knees, her calves defined and firm from dancing, no doubt. Regina inhaled the scent the woman left behind, she left a delicate hint of mint hung in the air, clean, crisp, and pleasant.

"Where are my hip hoppers? Who's ready to daaaaance?" Emma sang as she leaned one hip against the door of what a sign noted was The Green Room. Boys and girls stood and headed toward the room, high-fiving their teacher as they walked in.

Henry jumped off the seat to his mother's left and ran toward Miss Emma like a magnet, bare feet thudding against the floor. "Me!"

Emma smiled widely. "All right, my man! Right here." She held up a palm just high enough that Henry had to jump to slap it. The woman followed Henry through the door, closing it behind her and stealing one last glance at the boy's mother. Regina met her gaze once more and was rewarded with a second wink. The brunette's jaw dropped slightly as the door closed with a thud, which was soon replaced by a pumping bass.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

And even though she'd deny it to Kathryn (lest the woman, God forbid, be right), Regina actually enjoyed her time at the studio. Her seat outside the observation window gave her a great view of class. There were six girls and three boys, all between the ages of 5 and 7. Regina watched Miss Emma bounce around the class to the beat, a ball of energy herself: clapping, smiling, and cheering the kids on non-stop. She could barely make out the teacher's instructions muffled through the wall and over the sound of the music, but could tell she was teaching them step-touch: step one foot out to the side on the beat and bring the other to in to meet it on the next, then repeat in the opposite direction. First the class clapped to the beat, then they bounced to it, and lastly, tried to move their feet. Some got it, some didn't, but all the kids were smiling and giggling, no one more than Miss Emma herself.

"Isn't she wonderful?" a woman to Regina's right enthused. "Who's your dancer?"

"She certainly seems to like children." An introvert's introvert outside her natural surroundings, small talk wasn't easy for Regina. Yet she set what she hoped was a kind look on her face and turned to her right. ("You have to _try_ and at least _talk_ to new people," Kathryn lectured one night. "I know I set the bar high, but Henry is going to have friends and they're going to have parents, and you can't be the aloof, snobby one. That's me.")

Regina pointed at the window. "Brown hair on the right, he's the one not quite on the beat," she chuckled. Henry was trying to step-touch in time, but off by more than a bit. Miss Emma squatted in front of him, back to the window, clapping and pointing at his feat to help him get on the beat. The position gave Regina a generous, appreciated view of one of the teacher's best assets.

"Not many of them are, don't worry. Wait until you see them at recital in June. You won't believe it!" She stuck out her hand, "I'm Sue. The purple leo's mine."

Regina shook her hand politely and watched Purple Leo step-touch on the beat. "Regina, nice to meet you. Your daughter's doing well."

"She has three older sisters who have danced here forever, she's always trying to dance with them at home. She was so excited to join Mini today, she's been dying to turn 5 so she could. Lilah, my daughter, _loves_ Miss Emma — she's amazing."

 _Well, her ass certainly is,_ Regina thought as the blonde swayed to the beat, step-touching.

"I take it she's quite popular?"

"Miss Emma? Oh, yeah. She's _the_ hip-hop teacher here. Everyone tries to get in her classes before they fill up. Miss Becky is fine, too, don't get me wrong, but Miss Emma always seems to be the favorite. It's not hard to see why…"

 _I'll say,_ Regina smirked to herself.

"Oh, looks like time's up."

Regina realized the music had stopped. She watched Miss Emma high-five the children with one hand as they walked out, the other supporting the water bottle in her mouth. As the last child passed, she set down the bottle, grabbed a white hand towel, and dried the thin sheen of sweat off her face.

"You know," Sue started, gathering her daughter's shoes and bag, "Miss Emma teaches Latin fitness Tuesdays and Thursdays, I try to come when I can. It's a great workout if you were ever interested."

"Oh…" Regina began, her mind suddenly preoccupied with the thought of that firm body undulating in front of her in the same sweaty room. "...I can't dance."

"It's not dance, it's Zumba — but they can't call it 'Zumba' because they didn't buy the license. It's really easy — seriously, old people can do it. Think about it, it's fun. It's a great stress reliever and workout. Friend me on Facebook, if you like: Sue Walker. Search 'Sue Langovin Walker' and you'll find me and not some chick in Iowa."

"I will, thanks." _OK, this isn't so bad. Yet_ another _admission I cannot make to Kathryn._

Regina Mills was not a fan of Facebook, but it had become a necessity in business (marketing) and personally (information). She rarely posted any status updates on her personal wall, but did enjoy keeping up with far-flung friends and town news, as well as Henry's school and, now, his dance studio, which had an active presence.

"Great! See you next week?" Sue asked, gently guiding her daughter by the shoulder through the crowded hallway toward the door.

"Yes, see you then." Regina and Henry turned to follow them.

"Thanks Miss Emma!" Regina looked up and saw her new friend pass and thank Henry's teacher, who once again was leaning on the door to the studio. The next class started to shuffle in.

"My pleasure, Sue. Glad to have Lilah with us...Henry! My man!" Emma held her palm up once more for a high-five. "Way to go, you did great today!" she smiled warmly. Regina couldn't remember the last time she saw him smile so wide.

Regina squinted. "Really?" she asked quietly, out of Henry's earshot. In the earlier encounter, she didn't get a great look at the teacher's face, but now... _wow_. Make-up free, Miss Emma's skin was fair and smooth, with high cheekbones and model-perfect teeth that lit up her face when on display. Unusually symmetrical and open, perfectly proportioned features sat on a pear-shaped face, sculpted eyebrows arching naturally over big green eyes and a refined nose.

Miss Emma held her gaze, eyes broadening under the scrutiny. She nodded dumbly for a second, caught off guard by the brunette's study. "Uh huh...I mean, no. Wait, _yes_...Yes... _yes_... really. He did well." She sucked in a quick breath, flustered and slightly embarrassed about her sudden lack of poise. "I, uh….I'm sorry about, you know...earlier." Miss Emma tipped her chin back toward where Regina had been sitting.

"Oh…" Now it was Regina's turn to get caught off guard, a small blush staining her cheeks. _I hope she doesn't notice._ "No, no need to apologize...Thank you again. Say goodbye to Miss Emma, Henry."

"BYE, MISS EMMA!" came a shout from below.

"Bye, dude, see you next week. And goodbye…" Emma looked to find Henry dragging his mother out the door. The blushing mother whose name she didn't know, but wanted to. "...you."

"Mom! It was so cool! I loved it! When can we go get my shoes? Tonight? Can we go tonight? Please? HITZ, Mom! Turn up HITZ!"

Henry was a non-stop ball of energy after they left the studio. If the class had a secondary purpose of burning off the child's excess energy, it failed spectacularly. Rather, it seemed to light him on fire. Regina couldn't help but smile as they drove home — how could she dislike anything that made him this happy?

"Henry, relax. No shoes tonight, we have to go home and have dinner. Maybe tomorrow night, OK?"

Normally, she'd still be at the office and Henry would be with this sitter, but today's events had her rethinking Wednesdays. Perhaps she'd make them a special day: Pick Henry up from kindergarten, grab a snack, then head to dance. In addition to extra time with Henry, she'd get to watch him dance every week. Along with another person.

Regina's thoughts meandered back to Miss Emma once more, like a pendulum pulled by horizontal force. Between work and Henry, she had little time for a social life, and when she did, there was no one who raised her radar in what seemed like forever. While Denwick and Islington sat 15 miles south of Boston, in one of the most gay-friendly states in the country, "most" still left a lot to be desired. Small towns could still run quite provincial, and even if either were named Gaytown, Regina would still prefer to be in the closet publicly, that's just how she was. In private, only Kathryn, the in vitro doctor, and a few close friends knew. She assumed her colleagues in the office had suspicions, but wisely they left the question unasked. If asked, she certainly wouldn't lie, but Regina had no plans to slap a rainbow sticker on her car.

"Miss Emma showed us how to raise the root — look. LOOK!"

Regina looked into the rearview and saw Henry pushing his arms, palms up, straight over his head.

"It's 'roof,' sweetheart. Raise the roof."

"Raise-tha-roof! Raise-tha-roof!"

"Henry, quieter, please."

Regina looked again and saw he was slightly more in time. She could hear Kathryn's voice in her head: _Those classes are already paying off. Glad I thought of them._

Emma shut off the sound system and lights to The Green Room, where she had been in residence for, what, 5 hours now. On top of her full-time 7-3, teaching made for long days, but she couldn't help it, she loved it. Every time she thought about reducing her class load or quitting altogether, she remembered how much she enjoyed the kids, the recital, and the joy in seeing a child finally master a move they thought they couldn't do. Growing up, dancing had been her refuge, her teachers a surrogate — hell, her only — family. She had always dreamed of following in their footsteps, and here she was. Plus, the extra money, though not significant, always helped, and dance days meant she could skip the gym and not feel guilty.

"Hey, we goin' out for a drink tonight?"

Emma turned and spied Ruby Lucas strutting down the hallway barefoot, clad only in the shortest of booty shorts and a sports bra, as if she just walked out of her bedroom.

"Put some clothes on! There's kids here!"

" _No_ ," Ruby noted superiorly. "They're all gone. My class was the last one, and I let them out the downstairs door. Unless you have someone up here."

"Nope, gone. But you _should_ put clothes on, Granny watches these, you know." Emma gestured to the small surveillance cameras in the hallway and office.

"What? Nothing she hasn't seen before," she smirked, bending over ass first toward a camera and smacking it for good measure. She straightened up and blew the camera a kiss. "Not an issue unless she plays your side of the fence, and she is my grandmother, so regardless, not a problem."

Ruby sauntered over to Emma with a leer and draped her arms around her neck. "Wait, am I making you uncomfortable? Are you hot and bothered?"

Emma steeled herself, trying not to breathe in the intoxicating scent of perspiration mixed with, well, Ruby. It was sexy as hell, and she could feel the brunette's breath on her ear. "Well?"

The woman was as hot as fire poker, blazing orange with a heady mix of boldness and sexuality on display. Emma wouldn't deny being tempted, she never did, but they were best friends. Emma had long maintained that if she and Ruby were meant to be together, they would have been by now. She'd never been in love — she'd been in like and, certainly, in lust, but never love. Emma didn't much know what that was supposed to feel like, but she figured she'd know it when she was. And when she looked at Ruby, the L word was lust.

She didn't want to ruin their friendship, as amazing as a fuck-a-thon with Ruby would be, no doubt. Plus, Ruby's declaration as a try-sexual ("I'll try anything!") didn't seem to be the best foundation for a long-term relationship, something Emma was hoping would find her, someday.

Emma's hands rested on the brunette's waist, she swore the woman had gotten smaller, more firm, somehow, but for Ruby it would be a matter of mere degrees. A size zero, even her earlobes were toned. Taking one last inhale, she gently pushed away. "I am always hot and often bothered. Get your sweaty self off me."

"All right, all right." Yet Ruby ducked in for a quick peck on Emma's neck. "Sorry, I'm super horny right now…"

"How were classes?" Emma asked, desperate to change the subject. She was only human and given it'd been two months since she got laid, her frustration was high and her resistance impossibly low thanks to Ruby's charms.

"Good." Ruby headed for the "teacher's lounge," a tiny room off the office that housed their purses, bags, and a dorm fridge. She hopped into some yoga pants and grabbed a smoothie from the fridge, taking a lengthy pull. "Most of my girls are from last year, a couple of younger ones moved up. The Riley twins."

Emma nodded, they were good girls and good dancers. "Good for you."

"How about you?"

"Was fun. Had Mini and Advanced back to back, which is always funny."

Ruby stopped mid sip and lowered the bottle. Emma could practically see the light bulb go on overhead. "Whoa. _Whoa-whoa-whoa_. Who was that hot brunette I saw in here earlier? Like 5 or so?"

 _That hot brunette_ , Emma mused. The description did not do that woman justice, at all. Although her body was covered by a raincoat, Emma would have bet her loft that why lie underneath was an 11 on a scale of 1 to 10. Those rich brown eyes sucked Emma in right away, only to be quickly drawn to plump crimson lips and even, white teeth. Her heart-shaped face ended on a strong, narrow chin, which made for killer cheekbones.

"Oh," Emma smiled. "I don't know her name. Her son is Henry, super cute, in the Mini class." Knowing kids' names but not always the parents' was an occupational hazard. "I did almost most land tits-first in her face, though."

Mid-sip, Ruby gasped, sending smoothie somewhere into her nasal cavity. She hacked and sputtered for a good 45 seconds trying to clear her airways. "Jesus!" She looked half-pissed, half-incredulous, which made Emma laugh out loud.

"What the fuck did you do with your tits?"

"I got tripped up in Lizzie Reilly, who was putting her shoes on in the middle of the hallway. I nearly landed in the woman's lap, but I braced myself against the wall. She was, like, an inch or so away from being able to motorboat me."

"Was there any tit-touching?"

"No..I wish."

"Well, next time, make sure you do it right!"

Emma grabbed her hoodie and backpack with a sigh: "You know the rules…"

Eugenia Lucas had three primary rules for her dance instructors:

Keep the kids safe.

Make sure the kids have fun.

Don't sleep with the parents.

Emma could hear the admonition clear as day — as it was often shot Ruby's way: "No mother wants to send her child to dance at a studio where her husband may not come back!"

Ruby snapped the smoothie bottle closed and stepped into her UGGs. "Seriously, I saw her in the parking lot. She is, like, me-hot."

"Yeah, that's how I rate women: you-hot."

"Next time, try to fall pussy-first into her face. Really go for it!"

Emma laughed loud and long, as she followed Ruby out the door and locked it behind her.

Across town, newly minted hip hop dancer Henry Mills was fast asleep — no mean feat this day — while his mother lounged on the couch listening to a monologue from her best friend about some courthouse shenanigans: "And then I told the clerk that if he misplaces my filings _one_ more time, I'll have his nuts in my briefcase. _Honestly_...wait, Henry's class was today, right? How'd it go?"

Regina smiled to herself, replaying him step-touching and "root-raising" all over the house after dinner. "He loved it," she sighed.

"I—"

"—was right, _I know_. You were right. Let's get your gloating out of the way."

"I'd prefer to save it for another day when I am less awesome. Anyway, tell me everything."

Regina did just that, omitting her up-close encounter with Miss Emma and subsequent observations.

"Hold up, you made a friend?" She could hear the glee in Kathryn's voice.

Regina calmly restated herself. "I met a fellow mother. Her name is Sue. She seems very nice."

"Sue! You met a Sue? YES! You put your phone down! _You put your phone down and talked to someone._ Holy shit, I am so proud of you!"

"What is that noise?"

"I'm fist pumping my brilliance."

"Good Lord."

"He had nothing to do with it. I did! Yes! I. Am. Brilliant."

"And humble."

"Naturally. So, continuing...who's the teacher?"

 _Damn her prosecutory attention to detail._ "A hip hop teacher, who else? Very enthusiastic, seemed wonderful with the children."

"What's the name?"

"Why?"

"I'm curious. Why are you so secretive?"

Regina swallowed and hoped it wasn't picked up on other end of the line.

"I'm not being secretive! Her name is Miss Emma."

"Oooohhhhh…. _Miss_ Em- _ma_. Alriiiight."

"They _all_ go by 'Miss' whatever their first name is. Why do I hear typing?" Regina's heart accelerated. _Am I that transparent?_

"I'm checking out who is teaching my godson...let's see, Home...Faculty….WHOA. Uh, you did not mention she looked like that. God- _damn_."

Regina grabbed her iPad and opened up the browser, which was still on Step In Time's site. She realized she never looked at the Faculty page. She quickly found Emma among the black and white headshots. The picture clearly professionally done, she smiled naturally for the camera, her hair pulled into an intricate side braid. Emma _Swan_.

"Whoa, look at this one!"

"Wait, where are you?"

"Photos section. Under Studio Life."

The page held a variety of candids of children and teachers in rehearsal, several of which featured Miss Emma. Some serious. Some laughing. In one she leapt high off the ground with her students in sync, legs out and wide like a frog, face serious and determined. She wore what Regina guessed was her standard tank top, plus baggy shorts, and boots. A flannel shirt tied around her waist billowed outward, it's movement indicating the leap was powerful. In another, she was showing a dancer how to do a handstand, in which Emma balanced and held her body parallel to the ground, off the ground, arms defined in effort.

"Holy shit, look at her arms!" Kathryn squealed.

"I've seen them, they're...impressive."

"I want to come with you next week."

"Absolutely not. You're in court."

"You don't know that!"

"It's a good guess." Regina brought the glass of red to her mouth. "Plus, you'll be busy castrating the clerk."

"You're worried. You're worried I'll look like your smokin' trophy wife and that will scare off Miss Hot Body."

"Hardly. I doubt Miss Hot Bo— I mean, Miss Emma, is interested in dating a parent of her student. Plus, I don't know if she's gay, and she doesn't know I'm gay."

"She's super gay, look at her! She—"

"—I'm cutting off whatever inadvertently offensive statement you've got ready to go. I don't know why you persist in thinking lesbians want to date every woman they see. Stop perpetuating that awful stereotype. You don't want to sleep with every man you see. You have male friends. And I have female friends."

"Two — you have me and your new pal, Sue. You don't want to sleep with Sue do you?" She paused dramatically and gasped: "Homewrecker!" Kathryn cracked herself up so hard, she snorted.

"Charming."

"It's just…" Kathryn began, but couldn't continue because she was still giggling. "...it's just you give off a heavy vibe when you're interested. I've seen it, it's impressive. You get that smoky laser stare going and look like you're starving and your lady target is a Thanksgiving dinner."

"How do you put these terrible analogies together?" Regina took another sip. _I may need the whole bottle to get through this conversation. At least it's over the phone._ She couldn't imagine the horror of having it in person, Kathryn would be onto her in 10 seconds.

"I'm _not_ wrong," Kathryn maintained firmly. Regina could hear the smile in her voice.

The problem was, Kathryn was right — she _did_ want to get to know Miss Emma Swan.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

September quickly slid into October, then November, as the fall tends to do for parents. Before she knew it, Regina Mills found herself fast-forwarded through the holidays and into the new year, armed with a new appreciation for the art of hip hop and, especially, a certain dance instructor.

Her plan to leave early Wednesday afternoons was working wonderfully. Henry loved the extra weekday time with his mother, but not more than she did. That was impossible. Every Wednesday, she picked the boy up from school and took him to a bakery near the studio. She sipped a coffee while Henry was rewarded with his now-ritual pre-dance milk and cookie. She sat, every week, marveling at the little boy who was growing up far too fast for her liking. He shared stories from kindergarten, thoughts about his teacher, and whatever else was on his expanding mind. Regina simply sat, sipped, and smiled. Work, she discovered, could wait. So it did.

After coffee, the pair got to the busy studio early to get a decent parking spot, get Henry changed into his dance clothes, and ensure Regina got her favorite seat across from the observation window. The latter need was, of course, known only to Regina. She couldn't — she wouldn't — deny it to herself: She was attracted to Miss Emma.

Regina Mills was no-nonsense; she simply didn't understand why people didn't just say what they mean. When she wanted something, she went for it, be it a new client, project, purchase, or person. The approach rarely failed her in the past, but here she couldn't even pass Go. Henry had never been a factor in her previous relationships, due to the fact she didn't have them. Occasional hookups were found at one of Boston's upscale gay bars — mutually beneficial, and never, ever at her house. The fact was: Henry had never known another woman in his mother's life. If that ever came to pass, and Regina seemed to doubt that more every passing year, it would be for keeps. And, to further frustrate, the woman was Henry's dance teacher; certainly she couldn't land in bed with any of the authority figures in her son's life, no matter how attractive. Which left Regina Mills sitting on a metal folding chair once a week, content as much as the situation would allow. Which was, truly, not much at all.

While The Mills religiously followed a weekly schedule at the studio, Emma did, too. She made it a habit to enter through the backdoor, which ensured she would have to pass Henry and his mother on the way to the Mini class.

"Hi, Henry!" she smiled, then turned her grin one seat left, slowing her pace — hopefully not too noticeably — so she could get a good look at the brunette. "Good afternoon, Ms. Mills."

"Miss Emma," Regina smiled back politely, willing her eyes not to drop south. Today Emma was wearing black capri tights and a snug electric blue tank top. Her soft, blonde hair was pulled back into a loose French braid that seemed to make her face more expressive — eyes shone brighter, her smile bigger.

"You look like Elsa, Miss Emma!" Henry noted gleefully.

"Not the first time I've heard that," she said. "I'll take it." Emma reached out and clapped the boy on the shoulder. "Isn't Henry doing great?" He's killing it!" She knew Regina sat in the same seat every week, watching her son...and his teacher. At 30, Emma had been around the block before. She knew when women were interested in her, and this one definitely was. She could feel those brown eyes following her every time they were in the same room. Emma thought about it often, and if she couldn't do shit about it, she'd have fun being ogled by the hottest women she had ever seen.

"I'm very proud. He's working very hard." Regina's voice softened from polite and crisp into rounded and soft at the mention of her son. "I love watching him dance."

"Well, you've got the best seat in the house." Emma winked, her lips turning up in an impish grin when she caught Regina's eyes on her chest. "C'mon, my man. You ready?"

"Yeah!" Henry jumped up so fast, the chair nearly tipped over, thankfully pulling attention away from the pink staining Regina's cheeks. _I need to get to Boston_ , she thought, suddenly warm and aroused on a cold metal seat.

"Hey, Henry. Hey, Miss Emma!" Sue Walker greeted the pair with a smile as she passed them on her way to Regina. She claimed Henry's former chair with a smile. "What's up?" Regina enjoyed Sue's company every week, where she was filled in on the latest town and studio gossip.

"Not much…" Regina began, interrupted by the shrill ring of her cell. _I need to change that._ "Regina Mills…" She hopped up, giving her friend an apologetic look as she headed for the privacy of the porch, which quickly, regrettably, turned into a trip to her car and back to work. Teeth clenched and eyes narrow, she storming into the office, angry to be missing her visual vacation.

"I'm _sorry_ , but we just got the final draft with the revisions, and you're due at the courthouse at 9 tomorrow," her assistant Richard soothed. "You won't have time to check everything before then unless you're in here by 7, and I know you have to get Henry to school, and—"

"Richard, I know my schedule," she spat, regretting it immediately. Meticulous, efficient, and kind, Richard had been with her since she and Kathryn started the firm. He was able to run the paralegals, a busy law office, and — somehow — effortlessly weather the unique personalities of both women — no mean feat. "I'm sorry," she sighed. "I'm just...I don't like missing his class."

"I know," he replied softly, then glanced at the clock. "If you leave now, you can catch the end of it. Just review this tonight," he instructed, handing her a bulging folder. "If you need anything fixed, I can come in early." He gently turned her toward the door and pushed, "Go."

A sincere "thank you" wafted over her quickly retreating figure as she walked out the door. _I'll do something nice for him tomorrow,_ she promised herself. Richard's plan was perfect, until Regina felt the Mercedes start to shudder violently about 4 miles away from the studio. A flat. Pissed off and petrified that she wouldn't make it to pick up her son in time, she immediately dialed AAA, then the studio. Regina breathlessly explained the situation to Eugenia, who wondered if the woman would hyperventilate before she finished.

"Ms. Mills, Ms. Mills, _relax_ ," she urged. "It's OK. Believe it or not, this has happened before more than a few times. I'll tell Henry you're on your way. He can hang out in Miss Emma's next class until you arrive. He'll be fine. We're here until 9:30 tonight, so unless you're on your way to jail, it's all good."

Regina nodded dumbly at the phone. "Oh...I...thank you."

The wrecker came and fixed Regina's flat within an hour, allowing her to speed back to the studio and restrain herself from bounding up the steps and bursting through the door. She calmly walked in and was cut off before she could greet Eugenia.

"He's having the time of his life in the advanced class. Come see," she urged, waving her into the office. Regina walked in unsure and was surprised to find a bank of six small monitors — one for each rehearsal room, and one for the entrance, backdoor, and hallway.

"We use them for security and liability," the older woman explained. "Top right."

Regina's eyes followed the direction and she saw a live feed into The Green Room, where Emma was putting a group of teenagers through intricate hip hop combinations. Henry was sitting off to the side, smiling and bobbing his head.

"She's teaching them their recital routine," Eugenia noted. She turned a dial, flipped a switch, and suddenly Regina could hear the audio from the room emanating from a small speaker.

"Alright ladies, here we go. Full out, no marking! A- five, six, seven, eight…" Emma hit the music and the class erupted in sync. Arms and legs were thrown in precise angles, hard and fast to the thumping beat. When the class landed a jump or stomped in unison, Regina could feel the floor shake. Standing in front of the mirror, Emma appraised the dancers as they ran the number, as serious as Regina had ever seen her. After a series of beats, she hollered, "Don't forget pop-pop-into-Superman!" turned around, and joined in. Regina had seen Emma dance with the Minis, but those were beginner moves with 5-year-olds. Here, she was clearly in her element, fierce and full-out with advanced dancers.

When the number ended, she turned to Henry, palms up, as the teens sucked in air or braced themselves on their thighs.

"What do you think?"

"The big girls did great!" he clapped, causing a cascade of happy squeals from the older girls.

"What about me?" she laughed.

"You were awesome!"

Regina laughed out loud, she couldn't help it. Henry's enthusiasm was infectious and Emma was, indeed, an awesome sight to behold, aggressively making her way through an intricate combination, out-dancing girls 15 years younger.

Emma mussed his hair on the way to grab her water bottle. "Class dismissed. Practice at home!" She high-fived the girls as they filed out, leaning on the door to grab some cool air from the hallway. Toweling off her face, she looked up quickly when a loud, "Mom!" sounded behind her.

Henry bolted into the doorway to hug his mother, who was smiling wide. "I'm sorry I'm late, sweetheart, I had to go back to work and I got a flat tire on the way back."

"That's OK, I stayed with Miss Emma and the big girls."

"He was an excellent assistant," Emma grinned. "I'll keep him anytime."

"I _am_ sorry. I thought my partner would be able to come by and pick him up earlier, but she was in court."

Before she could stop herself, Emma's brows lifted just enough to be noticed. "My law partner," Regina clarified quickly. "I'm a lawyer."

"Oh, good...uh, I mean, no problem. He was great and the girls love him. It was no inconvenience, I hope you didn't worry too much." Emma tried to hide her face by taking another pull off her water bottle. _Shut up, dummy!_

The women looked away, desperate to stop tipping their hands and turning red. Henry's timing was perfect, as he walked up in his coat and boots.

"OK, sweetheart, let's go home."

"Thanks Miss Emma! I had fun with you and the big girls."

"We had fun with you, too. Good night Ms. Mills."

Regina stopped before she hit the door, turned around, and offered her hand. "I'm Regina."

Emma took note of the elegant hand sporting crimson nails as she clasped it with her own. She squeezed gently. "A pleasure, Regina. See you soon"

 **TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

The following day, Emma was changing in the "teacher's lounge" when she heard Eugenia announce: "Emma, you have a delivery."

Walking into the office, she found Granny eyeing a basket of flower-shaped fruit and chocolate-covered strawberries, and holding a sealed small card in her hand.

"You can have this," she waved the envelope, "if I get a strawberry."

Emma grinned. " _That_ is blackmail, old lady."

"But it still works. What's your decision?"

"Take two, you crone," she chuckled. "Might as well have some excitement in your senior years."

Granny handed over the card and gently whacked a laughing Emma on the arm as she brought the basket into the connected room and placed it on top of the dorm fridge. Pulling out a pineapple flower, she took a bite as she opened the envelope.

 **Thank you again for yesterday — Regina.**

Somehow, the fruit suddenly tasted sweeter.

She had little time to enjoy her bounty before Ruby bounded in barking, "Whaaaaat is this deliciousness?"

"A gift."

"From who?"

"A parent."

" _Some_ parent...who?"

"That's privileged information."

"Fuck that," Ruby hung up her coat and pulled off her shirt in one seemingly fluid move. "I'll bribe Granny. She loves dirt."

"Regina Mills."

"Who?"

Emma sighed, pulling up her capris. This was going to hurt. "The hot brunette."

Parents just turning into the parking lot probably heard Ruby's hoots. "YAAAAAAAASSSSSS! Wait, why?"

"She had a flat and her son stayed to hang out in the next class until she got here. I didn't do anything special," Emma noted quickly. "She didn't have to do this. I didn't _do_ anything"

"Hey, don't get defensive," she soothed, noting she hit a tender spot. "But you want to, don't you?"

"I can't."

"But you want to."

Emma cocked her head to the side, lips pursed. "Of course. Have you seen her? I would like to get to know her. _But I can't._ " She winced, that was dangerously close to a whine.

"Hey, I didn't meant to pour salt in the wound." Ruby approached and pulled the blonde into a side hug. "You know what you know need?"

"Don't say 'get laid.'"

"You need to get laid."

Emma chuckled and shook her head. "I do, but what I need is to get laid by a nice woman who I like to spend time with. And I haven't found one in a long, long time."

"You should go into town and _get down_."

"I'm too tired," she sighed, stepping out from behind the curtain, into the hallway.

Ruby took a chocolate-covered strawberry and bit into it seductively, lips gently suckling the juice. She swallowed a bite. "Regina's got good taste."

One town over, the Islington law office of Midas & Mills was wrapping up for the day. The partners sat in Regina's office, Kathryn's shiny black heels resting on her friend's mahogany desk as she summarized the day in court: "I kicked ass."

"Good for you."

"You bet it's good for me — and you." She sipped her Diet Coke and smiled at herself. "Whom did Boston Magazine name as one of the Top 5 defense lawyers again? Hmmm?"

Regina twirled a pen in between her fingers as she reviewed a ridiculously complicated, absurdly long, real estate contract. "Ted Castle," she noted, without looking up.

"True, but he's an asshole. Who was the only one in the Top 5 with a uterus?"

"You, I think...but I don't recall Boston Magazine mentioning your uterus."

"Regina…" Richard strode into the room with a stack of mail. "I—"

"Richard, you look great today! Well done!" Kathryn enthused. The man looked down, unsure of what prompted the comment. He was wearing what he pretty much always wore: black dress shoes, black trousers, a light grey Oxford and a blue tie featuring a small diamond pattern. He had just trimmed his beard, maybe that was it? He opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by his other boss, who was still nose-down in the contract: "Don't mind her, she's in one of _those_ moods," she noted archly.

He nodded, not that she saw it. "I just wanted to tell you I received confirmation on that delivery."

Kathryn looked at Regina fast enough to see her grimace, slightly. "Very good, thank you," she replied. Richard spun on his heel and exited quickly, keen to distance himself from a merry, teasing Midas.

The silence was deafening as Regina continued reading, waiting for the inevitable.

"What delivery?" Kathryn asked sweetly, slowly.

Regina lifted her head carefully, removing her reading glasses and pinching the bridge of her nose. "One of those fruit arrangements."

"Lovely. To whom?"

 _Shit._ Regina prayed an asteroid would hit the building.

"To the dance studio."

Kathryn frowned, it wasn't the answer she expected. "The dance studio?"

"Because I was so late picking up Henry yesterday because _someone_ was in court and couldn't help me."

"In court _winning_ ," Kathryn noted, holding up a finger for clarification.

"Whatever. I wanted to do something nice."

She watched the blonde return to her phone and breathed a sigh of relief. _Thank you, Jesus._ She was almost done with the last page of the contract when she heard Kathryn shift her legs off the desk and sit up straight: "Wait, to the dance studio or someone specific _at_ the dance studio?"

 _I could lie. I could, but she would check the delivery info because she is Kathryn, and I will get a bigger landslide of shit for trying to hide that detail._

Regina looked up once more and met Kathryn's eyes. "To Henry's dance teacher."

It took Kathryn a moment to register the significance of the statement, but once she did, her eyes lit up and blew wide.

"Miss Hot Body?"

"Yes, Emma Swan."

"Oooh, _Emma Swan_ , excuse _me_ Counselor."

Regina rubbed her forehead, "Anything else? I want to get this done so I can go home."

Kathryn stood and rested a hip on Regina's desk. Kathryn's tendency to mark her territory wherever she went and drape herself over Regina's personal property never ceased to amaze. "Of course." She leaned in and dropped her voice, "Are you making a move?"

"No," she sighed.

"But you want to."

"Of course, I want to. She's beautiful and she seems kind." Regina leaned back in her chair and braced an elbow on the desk, supporting her head. "She's the first person to pique my interest in a long time. But I can't. She's Henry's teacher, that doesn't seem right."

"Ugh, fuck right, I'd say." She laughed. "Fuck Miss Right! Are you giving her that sexy tractor beam stare?"

"If I am, I'm not trying to. I'm trying to resist her and act normal. I look at her and…" Regina spat out a frustrated grunt.

"Is that some sort of lesbian mating call? Wait, do you know she's gay?"

"Not for sure, but I'd be shocked if she wasn't. She pings hard. And I swear she looks at me not like a parent."

"So, what are you going to do?"

"Nothing." Her shoulder slumped as her lips sagged at the corners. "I can't _do_ anything. I only sent that basket today to be nice, honestly. I really did appreciate her help. Henry has so much fun there, it's makes me so happy to see that."

As a defense attorney, Kathryn was a body language expert; it was easy to tell Regina was not lying. She looked defeated and dejected. "You know what you need?"

"Oh, here we go…"

"Elsie's!" Kathryn hopped off the desk and clapped her hands. "I'll call Don!"

"Elsie's" was shorthand for "Elsie's Cabaret," one of the more upscale gay bars in Boston's Back Bay. While surprisingly the city didn't have a lesbian-only bar, all the gay clubs had weekly "Ladies Nights," where lady-loving ladies — and their money — were welcome. Don was a close friend, and an Elsie's regular, who happily played wingman (or Fairy Godmother, as he preferred) when Regina wanted a night out. It wasn't often, but when she had an urge for an uncomplicated, mutually beneficial, no-strings evening, Kathryn took Henry for the night and Don accompanied her to Elsie's. Going alone, that was too depressing. Yet Don played the part perfectly, lovely company and conversation until Regina found a likely partner. He was there to rescue her if she foul-hooked a whacko, and not offended when she found a date for the evening and no longer needed his assistance. A successful gay lawyer himself, he understood what she needed and helped her discreetly find it, like the Fairy Godmother he was.

"Not this week!" she yelled after Kathryn, who had already bolted out of the room and into her office, presumably to call Don.

It was shaping up to be a nice evening. Henry went to bed without a fuss, allowing Regina to retreat to a long, hot bath with a glass of wine and a book. Her definition of a bliss. Kathryn had called Don, who promised to call her to set up a date and catch up. _I could use a night at Elsie's. It has been a while._ After drying and changing, she was sitting on the edge of her bed setting the alarm on her phone, when a text popped up with a buzz.

 **Regina, this is Emma Swan, Henry's dance teacher. I'm sorry to bother you, but thank you for the amazing basket you sent today. I had to protect it from the other teachers — and Granny — but I won. It wasn't necessary at all, but much appreciated. - Emma**

Smiling automatically, Regina began typing her response:

 _My pleasure, thank you again. Is Eugenia your grandmother?_

Regina got under the covers and turned out the light, her phone glowing bright in the pitch black room. She felt like a teenager as she waited for a reply. She didn't have to wait long.

 **Ha, ha, no. She is Ruby's grandmother, Ruby teaches jazz and tap. But she's kinda like a grandmother to me — Granny, not Ruby. Ruby has been my best friend since I was 12, when I came to town with my foster family.**

Regina winced, feeling a phantom pain for Emma. What she knew of the system from legal circles was bleak. Any child over 10 had a better chance of hitting the lottery than getting adopted.

 _Is your foster family still in town?_

She realized she had no idea where "town" was for Emma.

 **No, they gave me up when I was 14. I landed in a group home in Bennett. They let me school choice into Denwick so I could stay in the same school system, that's where I had lived with the foster family.**

 _Do you live in Bennett now?_

 **Uh, I'm a little too old for the group home. :-) I did until I was 18, then I moved to Denwick. After college, I moved back to Bennett, I have a loft here.**

 _That made sense,_ Regina thought. Bennett borders Denwick. And her interest was piqued with a mention of college.

 _How did you become a dance teacher?_

Regina decided to veer off very personal matters and into potentially less-depressing waters. Emma explained how she grew up dancing at Step in Time, and assisted through college as she earned her physical therapy degree, officially joining the staff 10 years ago. Regina answered a series of questions about her job and the firm, which devolved in some ridiculous stories about Kathryn and many emoticons.

The pair texted back and forth for so long, Regina had to plug her phone into the charger on the nightstand, and when she did, she realized:

 _It's 12:30 a.m.! I am so sorry to keep you up!_

 **No worries, I've had my fair share of late nights. When I'm extra mean to the patients tomorrow, I'll tell them to call Midas & Mills.**

 _Sure thing, I'll make sure Kathryn answers._

 **Good luck with that closing tomorrow. And thank you, you're really easy to "text" to.**

 _Same here. I'll say a prayer for your patients. ;-)_

Regina placed her phone on the nightstand and snuggled under the covers. Her dreams that night were frequent, interesting, and blonde.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Continued thanks to Angie, who has beta'd this whole story and makes me smile with her notes. Want to make me smile? Please leave a review and tell me what made *you* smile. It really helps me develop the story. Thanks.**

 **Also, a technical note: For some reason, this chapter is not displaying text in bold, even though specific words have been bolded. Some of the texting scenes will be harder to read as the formatting is not displaying, though it looks correct in the document I uploaded. I suggest reading this over at AO3, which does everything better than ff dot net (which is still so backwards, it refuses to display a URL)** **.**

Regina relaxed in her office chair, head resting on her hand half-listening to a potential — and talkative — new client on the phone, when her cell buzzed. She glanced down and cocked her head when she saw the text.

1:25 p.m.

Emma Swan

 **Hey, we still on for tonight?**

 _That,_ she mused, _I would have remembered._ Oh, how she wished they were. It had been two months since their late-night text-a-thon. Regina had picked up the phone half-a-dozen times, intent on starting Round 2, but every time she checked herself. _No, it wouldn't be right._ Instead, they restricted their interactions to pre- and post-class polite smiles, small talk, and a sly wink and "Good to see you" from Emma as she passed by on the way to class.

Given the present opportunity, Regina could reply without guilt. _She texted me...in error...and she's going out with someone tonight._ A pang of anxiety poked her at the latter realization, but she couldn't let his opportunity pass.

"Brian, I apologize, but I have a," she glanced at the grandfather wall clock, "1:30. I'm going to transfer you to my assistant, and he will set up an appointment for us to talk next steps in person." Regina hit the Transfer button before the man could jump in: "Richard, I'm sending over Brian Barnes. Please book him next week, if he's available." Placing the handset back in the receiver, she studied the text as if there were more to divine. _There, now I can concentrate._

She tapped a pen against her lips, wondering how to respond. Straight-forward? Flirty? Joking? Bottom lip in between her teeth, she began pecking out her response.

 _If we were, I definitely would have remembered._ Flirty, it is.

At Conyers Rehabilitation Center one town over, Emma sat in the staff break room, finishing up patient paperwork that needed to go to the case manager before end of shift, eating lunch, and texting Ruby about the evening's plans. She nearly choked on her turkey sandwich when she checked her phone. _Shit! Shit, shit, shit._

A chill washed over her as she realized what she had done. _Wrong R!_ She read Regina's reply again with a pit in her stomach, then a third time. Wait, that wasn't, **New phone, who dis?** Or, **What the hell are you talking about?** Or even a cool, **I think you have the wrong number.**

Regina's reply could be interpreted a series of ways, and Emma really wanted to take it as, "So, when are _we_ going out?" and make a move. _But I can't._

In the weeks since that intense texting session, Emma thought long and hard about the possibility. _I like her. And I could_ really _like her. But I love teaching._ This mental debate surfaced at least once a week, usually Wednesday nights, lying in bed, several hours after seeing the woman in the hallway. Teaching was a sure thing, the studio was like a second home, and Granny, Ruby, and the other teachers a family. She'd miss late nights, funny stories about annoying parents, the amazing kids (the assholes, she could easily forget), and much more. It was a certainty, and she couldn't bring herself to gamble a sure thing that made her very happy on something that might not. _But it might,_ her brain supplied.

 **OMG, I'm so sorry, I texted the wrong R!** She hit the send arrow and waited, chest tight.

 _Who's the lucky R?_

Emma's mouth opened slightly. Goddamn, that was definitely flirting,

 **Ruby, my best friend.**

 _Ah, I remember you mentioning her._

Emma smiled. _She remembered. She remembered that night._

 **We're going to hit Dewey's. They have a DJ on Fridays. There's a small dance floor, it's fun.**

Emma closed her eyes and exhaled as she slowly typed out the next sentence. If she were saying this in person, she'd definitely stutter.

 **Would you like to join us?**

 _I had to_ , she justified. It'd be rude not to.

She felt her heart pick up speed as she stared at the screen, willing a reply, pulse thudding.

Regina's teeth pinned her tongue as she concentrated. There it was: an opening, one she had been hoping and waiting for. She didn't make the overture, and if Emma — who was Henry's teacher — did, she must not consider it a problem. But, of course, the one night Regina had plans — long-delayed plans — was the one night she got kinda-sorta asked on a date by a woman she had been thinking about for months.

She and Don had plans to go to Elsie's tonight, ones that had been postponed several times. She'd already had to cancel twice — once when Henry was sick and later when she came down with whatever he had. Then Don caught a case that demanded a lot of late nights, which pushed their adventure out further. She couldn't cancel again. He was doing her a huge favor, and she thought the world of him. He was also a dear friend and a lot of fun, no matter the setting, and she was dying to catch up in person. _No,_ she sighed to herself. _I can't cancel. But…._

 **I never have plans, but of course I do tonight. Can I get a raincheck?**

Emma's eyes were closed when she felt the buzz of the phone and looked at the screen as if were ticking. One eye peeked open cautiously, then the other.

Wow. Her heart raced and sank at the same time. That wasn't a No, or a Yes, but rather Another Time. That spoke of promise and potential. Then, she remembered, she couldn't allow any potential or promise. However, Regina could not know that, that decision was certainly not her fault.

 **Absolutely. Enjoy your night.**

 _You, too._

Regina was relaxed and confident as she strode up to Elsie's Cabaret that cool March evening, a time of weather limbo in which Boston didn't know if it was winter or spring — and, oftentimes, it was both in one day.

The club was located in the city's tony, and very gay friendly, Back Bay. With its brownstones and leafy brick side streets, the historic neighborhood — and its businesses — were refined and quiet. Elsie's was no exception. The metal and glass facade was sleek and spotless, much like its clientele. The club catered to a 30+ LGBT crowd, and a moneyed, upscale, ambitious one at that. If they spotted the anchor from the 6 o'clock news, an up-and-coming state rep, or the starting point guard for the Boston Celtics, patrons early on learned not to stare, or they were not allowed through the door at their next visit. Some guests were out, some were not, but all were afforded an implicit promise of discretion and privacy; it made for an incredibly loyal crowd. It was also surprisingly egalitarian; there was no membership list, velvet rope, or secret password. Anyone appropriately dressed and behaving, was welcomed. If you wanted a quick fuck in the handicapped stall, well, there were plenty of other places for that.

She nodded at the doorman in passing, checked her wool overcoat, then surveyed the room, finding Don on a banquette on the left side. It had become "their" spot, not the center of attention, but close enough to get to the bar without needing a sherpa and a good spot to check out patrons without being too obvious. He was sipping on a drink — a 7 and 7, no doubt — and checking his phone, unaware she entered. Her heart warmed at the sight of him, he had been a dear friend for a long time.

A dozen years older, her self-proclaimed Fairy Godfather didn't look a day over 35. His salt and pepper hair was undercut on the sides, with just enough length on top for a short, stylish fade that swept to the left. An oval face sported fair skin that reddened whenever Kathryn urged him to grow a leather daddy goatee; Regina was convinced the woman's teasing was what kept him perpetually clean-shaven. She lost track of how many times that sweet face had nodded, laughed, consoled, or counseled her on matters professional and personal. They had met at a bar association dinner about a year after Regina graduated law school. A flashy, loud attorney in a cheap suit was harassing her at the bar; Don stepped in with a smooth, "Honey, where have you been? I've been looking all over for you!" and thanks to his 6'2" athletic build and broad chest, the hack disappeared in record time. The pair sat together for dinner and became close friends, as well as each other's emergency beards whenever the situation called for one, which these days was thankfully rare.

Crossing the room, she caught his eye as he lifted his drink and was rewarded with a wide smile.

"Sweetheart, so good to see you." Don stepped out from the booth to engulf her in a hug and buss her cheek. Even with 4-inch stilettos, the height difference between the two was comical. "I missed you." Regina laid her head against his chest, close enough to get a whiff of his aftershave, which smelled like lemongrass, orange, and an anchoring spice she couldn't place. He squeezed again. "Are you eating? You seem thinner than usual." He closely surveyed his friend, who was sporting a sleeveless black sheath dress that ended just above her knee.

"I think those hipster glasses are affecting your eyesight," she smirked, pointing at his black Warby Parkers.

"They are not hipster glasses."

"Fine, millennial glasses."

"That's worse!"

Regina slid into the banquette still laughing and stopped in front of an extra dirty martini.

"I got you started," he grinned.

"Did you come from work?" She nodded at his bespoke navy suit, then took a much-welcomed sip from the ice-cold glass. Don worked in a large firm in the financial district and lived in Milton, just outside the city, with his husband, Dave.

"It didn't make sense to go home and come back in. I got some nifty bonus points for working late on a Friday night."

"Please thank Dave again for letting me steal you," Regina requested with a squeeze of his arm. She noticed the absence of his titanium wedding band. "No ring, huh?" she giggled.

"Uh, _hell_ no." The last time Don wore his ring to Ladies Night, he and Regina were constantly mistaken for an adventurous married couple and propositioned by confident women in the most graphic, forward ways he'd ever heard. "I _still_ can't look at Pearl's leash without blushing. Speaking of, you need to bring Henry to visit his Punkles and Her Highness soon. We haven't seen him since the new year, and that will not do." Dave and Don adored Henry and declared themselves his Punkles: Professional Uncles, No Kids. As such, they indulged the boy almost as much as Pearl, the couple's diva springer spaniel, and possibly the most spoiled creature on Earth.

"Only if you dial it back." Not content to wait until she finished her drink, she grabbed the toothpick and pulled off a vodka-soaked olive off the spear with her teeth, relishing its salty, spicy taste. _Ahhh._ "For a good two weeks after he visits, it's 'Punkle Dave said this…' and 'Punkle Don did that...' I can't compete."

"Well, I'll agree to your terms now, but then we'll just do what we want when you leave."

"Traitor," she chuckled. "What's Dave up to tonight?"

"He's on call, some other doc had an emergency. He'll probably still make it home before me. I don't suspect animals have wild Friday nights." Taking a sip of his drink, he relaxed against the black leather. "So, anything special tonight?"

"No. No leashes," she sniggered, lips quickly fading into straight lines. "But I could use some company.

"Then company you shall find," he declared.

"See anyone promising?"

"A couple, I think, up your alley. Well...they're all up your alley, but you know what I mean…"

"All I need is you, in female form."

"Honey, I _am_ me in female form. You'll find someone, I know it."

Regina nodded and bit off a second olive.

"But, before I lose you to the luckiest lady in Boston tonight, how's work? How's Henry? Has Kathryn been officially diagnosed with Tourette's yet?" Don knew better than to ask, "How are you?" as Regina would deflect and never quite answer. It was easier to take a roundabout approach with the subjects of importance in her life; he'd still get a good idea of how she was doing and an opportunity to indirectly impart some advice before the night was through.

Regina rolled her eyes. "Kathryn needs 30 days at McLean, I swear. You know that assault case she had…"

After Regina had enjoyed two martinis, filled Don in on the entirety of her life, and caught up on his, she decided it was time to hit the bar and see what there was to see. A couple of women had caught her eye across the room, they had potential; heading over to grab another drink usually gave an interested party the opportunity to come say hello in person. The club was filling up and the DJ had started a set a half-hour earlier — some Latin, some house, with smatterings of classic disco and pop. Couples were on the dance floor, the bar was open, and it was Friday night. Not a bad place to be.

Regina carefully weaved her way to the bar and leaned on it gently, waiting to get the bartender's attention. It didn't take long; it never did. "Extra dirty martini," she smiled, placing a ten in the tip jar.

The largesse ensured her drink became a priority, and it was quickly delivered with a wink. Taking a small sip to ensure it didn't spill over, she moved to the other end of the bar, where there was no bartender, fewer people, and more seats. She sipped and scanned the room as casually as she could, gasping when she locked eyes with a blonde smoothly grooving on the dance floor. With long blonde hair curling below her shoulders, a cornflower blue silk shirt, and black dress pants, she almost didn't recognize Emma Swan. But she would know those hips anywhere.

Both pairs of eyes blew wide at spotting the other, Emma's jaw dropping into the most dumbfound expression Regina had never seen. She laughed without thought and held up her glass in a toast. Emma, for her part, stopped dancing the moment she spotted Regina, standing stock still in a throng of still-dancing women. A redhead behind Emma stared daggers at Regina over the blonde's shoulder. Regina saw Emma turn, say something to the redhead, and quickly speed off the floor to her side.

"What are you doing here?" / "You're wearing makeup!" they exclaimed at the same time.

"Wait," Emma sputtered, still so stunned she almost snorted, " _that's_ what you're going with? Me wearing makeup?"

"Well, I've never seen you wear it, and you look amazing," Regina blurted. She felt her cheeks grow hot; her brain had short-circuited, filter gone. But Emma did look good. A light foundation, some eyeliner, and mascara had made her natural beauty even more radiant than normal.

Emma couldn't believe what she heard, but quickly caught her mental footing. "Why, thank you," she smiled, a hint of mischief in her eyes. "Wearing full makeup while dancing for hours tends not to be a great look at the studio. What are you doing here?"

"This was my plan for tonight," Regina answered matter-of-fact, still trying to process the turn of events. "What happened to Dewey's?"

"Ruby came down with a bug. She sounded half dead a few hours ago."

" _Those little fuckers gave me whatever is tearing through that germ factory," she moaned over the phone. Illnesses were brutal at the studio, rampaging through like a tornado, taking down everything in their path. "Why don't you go somewhere gay? Get your itch scratched?"_

 _Emma thought to herself,_ I _am_ itchy. _She hadn't hit a club in quite a while and headed to the Boston Rainbow Pages to find her destination. She wanted an older crowd, not overrun with college kids — a quiet place to have a drink and maybe find someone nice to talk to._

 _Sorting the results by price, she figured the two at the top were the best candidates for the company she desired. The Common was in the South End, but Ladies Night was Saturdays; Elsie's Cabaret was running one tonight. She clicked around to check out photos of the place and read reviews. It sounded like just what she was looking for._ Elsie's, it is.

"Sorry to hear that." _But currently not sorry._ "What are you drinking? It's on me."

"Jameson Black." Emma watched Regina walk to the bar, black dress hugging her ass just so. _Holy shit._ The woman always had a coat on whenever Emma saw her in the studio; what a crime to hide that body. She was petite and firm, yet had supple curves that practically made Emma's hands ache in need. Her hair ended just above a shallow scoop neck, showcasing an elegant expanse of skin. She turned, caught Emma staring, and smiled, teeth and face gleaming. Emma felt like a dazed, wounded antelope on a scorching African plain who just spotted a lioness. _Fuck, I am so done._

She was still lost in her head, working out her cause of death, when Regina reappeared, a smile on her face and a drink in each hand: "Let's sit." She walked to an empty booth in the right rear corner, so remote it currently was appealing to no one. Emma trailed behind, content to watch that ass sway. At least she couldn't be caught staring from this angle.

Emma scooted into the booth close, but not too close, to her new friend. "Cheers," Regina offered, clinking their glasses lightly.

"How did you get these so fast?" The line at the bar was easily three deep in spots.

"I tip well early, tends to come in handy later."

"Well done, you." Emma sipped her drink, wondering if it was wise, given how being in this woman's presence sober made her feel dizzy.

"I haven't seen you here before." Regina guffawed the minute the last word left her mouth. "Oh, God, I'm sorry. That sounds like such a line…" She gently wiped tears from the corner of her eyes trying not to smudge her makeup. "...but I really haven't."

Emma watched in amazement as a smile — a genuine, warm smile — took over Regina's face. Her eyes were shining, lips curled playfully. It was incredible.

"I've never been here before. Wanted to try something new. How 'bout you?"

"Every few months." Emma willed her jaw shut as she watched Regina delicately slide an olive off the toothpick with her even, white teeth.

"Not a fan of the scene back home?"

"There's a scene?" Regina smirked. "Do tell. I've been missing it all this time."

Emma chuckled. "Kidding, I wish there was. It's still not easy to find a date outside of the usual places, you never know…" She let the thought hang in the air.

Regina dipped her head. "True." Lifting her glass for courage, she continued. "Who's the redhead?"

"Who?"

"From the dancefloor."

"Oh…" The woman faded into complete obscurity the millisecond she spotted Regina Mills. "No idea, really. Just met her on the floor."

"I…" Emma looked away sheepishly. "...I gave her a fake name, anyway."

"Really?" Regina drawled. "Why?"

"You never know if someone turns out to be a weirdo. Not that I go a lot, but I like to play it safe, just in case. Everyone's information is out there these days, someone could find me in 10 seconds."

"What name did you use?"

Emma looked away, a hint of red staining fair cheeks. _Why did I admit that?_ "Beth."

"Nice to meet you, Beth." Regina extended her hand. "I'm Sarah."

"What?" she laughed, mortification suddenly evaporated. She shook Regina's hand, which was warm and soft, and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"I do the same thing, at least at first. It's easy to find me, too. And if you get a clinger…"

Emma nodded.

"Anyway, the redhead looked extraordinarily mad I took Beth away."

"Well," she tilted her head with more than a hint of bravado, "Beth did split about 2 seconds after she spotted Sarah. And Beth _is_ an amazing dancer. Can't say I blame the poor girl. "

"That is true." Regina regretted the confession the moment it slipped from her lips. It was too much, too soon. What if she spooked her?

"Oh, really?" Emma pursed her lips and tried not to smile, a collective effect that made her look like the cat who ate the canary. "You've seen Beth dance, eh?" _We can play this game, sure…_

"A couple of times," she began, with a playful, disinterested tone, "with 5-year-olds."

Emma met, then held, her gaze: "She's even better with bigger bodies." _Game. On._

A chill raced through Regina's chest. Emma's eyes were narrow, yet her lips turned up smugly. The tables had turned.

"I can't dance," Regina demurred, suddenly on shaky ground. She no longer held serve, and it unnerved her.

"Uh…" Emma chuckled softly. "No way." She slowly raked her eyes over any part of Regina's body she could see and made sure the woman saw her do it. Regina felt heat rush to her face — and other parts of her anatomy. "I know bodies, I know dancing. You. Can. Dance. I can see it in you. You just need the right teacher."

Emboldened, she rose, slid off her seat, and offered her hand. "C'mon. Time for class."

Lips parted, Regina stared and went to stand, only to have her phone buzz. "Give me 5 minutes, please?" she asked apologetically.

"Sure." Emma paused. "I'll be right back." Regina watched as Emma hurried toward the edge of the dance floor.

 **Did you make a new friend?**

 _Yes. I actually know her from town._ She decided to skip the details on how.

 **Well, I'll be. You good, then?**

 _Yes. Thank you *so* much. My love to Dave. I'll call you Sunday, we'll set up a date to see Pearl, and maybe you two. ;-)_

 **Do that. Be safe.**

 _No worries. Love you._

 **xo**

Regina stashed her phone in her purse and sat once more, watching Emma practically jog back to the table.

"Everything OK?" Emma held out her hand and smiled.

"Yes." She took the offered hand and stood. "Emma, I don't think—"

"C'mon, our set's coming up. No time to waste!"

Emma guided Regina into a far corner of the dance floor, which provided a little more room and privacy. The serious action occurred in the middle of the floor or near the DJ; the club may have catered to a moneyed crowd, but a good drink and a good beat loosened nearly all bodies. A peppy, mid-tempo Latin dance track thundered out of the sound system.

"Alright, cha cha time."

"What?" Regina looked as if Emma just handed her a parachute and opened a plane door 10,000 feet in the air.

"Modified cha cha. But, actually, we're just gonna do what's called a walking step. Just walk toward me, three steps to the beat." Emma walked backward three steps in time, Regina looked like she was going to throw up on her Jimmy Choos.

"C'mon," Emma cajoled, reaching out her right hand to take Regina's left. "I swear you'll have fun. Give me 15 minutes, if you're not, we'll head back to the booth and I'll buy the next round."

"The music is too fast," she protested weakly. Her defenses were slipping. Emma was sporting some serious puppy dog eyes, the beat was thudding, and the happy music was almost at her feet.

Whenever she looked at Regina, Emma felt like she was in a pool and her toes just skirted the steep drop between the shallow and deep ends. But here, on the dance floor, she was on her home turf, confident and calm.

"No problem, we'll go half time, slow it down. Let's go, toward me. A- 5, 6, 7, 8…" Emma walked back again, gently pulling Regina with her. When they reached three steps, she reversed course toward Regina, maneuvering her back to where they started. Soon they were walking up three and back three to the beat, their joined hands pushing and pulling in time.

"Thaaaat's it. Alright! You OK?"

A small grin appeared. "Yes. What type of music is this?"

"Cumbia." Emma left out the part about its origins as a courtship dance. They couple danced back and forth, back and forth, becoming smoother with each pass.

"OK, good! Now…" Letting go of Regina's left hand, Emma used her index finger to tilt her partner's head up 45 degrees. "Hi, there." She met those large brown eyes and unleashed a full, brilliant smile. "No more looking at your feet. You know what you're doing, you won't trip. I've got you. Plus…" she winked, "...the view's better up here."

Regina dipped her head bashfully. The resumed their dance, hands joined once more. "Forward, two, three, stop. Back, two, three, stop." Emma realized she was smiling like an idiot. _Get a little chill,_ she begged herself, unsure if she'd be able to pull it off. "Now, instead of stopping, can you rock back on your last step?"

Emma danced backwards, alone, left-right-left, transitioning all that weight onto her left foot on the last step, before starting a three-step trip back on the next beat with her right. "It gives the move a little 'tude, try it with me." Holding hands once more, they began and soon found a solid rhythm.

Regina smiled to herself, forgetting how much she liked being led. She hadn't danced in forever, and while she still had to think hard in order to move her feet correctly, the opportunity to relinquish control, even for a little while, was intoxicating — a relief. The direction, the style, the decisions weren't up to her but, rather, the expert who had a practiced, smooth, and solid hold on her body.

"Now, put some sway in those hips, senorita. Watch me." Emma traveled backwards, Regina following, but this time with Emma's hips loosely swinging side to side to the sensual beat. Regina nearly gaped, she had never seen such fluid movement.

"Rock 'em, I know you can," Emma teased lightly. She watched the brunette's hips jerk stiffly. "Feel the music."

And just when she said that, the music in question seamlessly transitioned from cumbia instrumental to the slower "Calle Ocho" by Pitbull. Normally Emma thought the guy was a one-trick pony, but right now he was her favorite person on the planet, present company excluded. The music and pace gave her an idea.

Regina's eyes wandered south again, but at least they weren't on her own feet, but rather Emma's rolling hips. She was trying to sway to the beat, but couldn't quite loosen enough up to match the pace. Then Emma stopped. Regina looked up guilty, as if she were suddenly in trouble.

Quite the opposite. "Stand still," Emma whispered, walking three steps into Regina's personal space, stopping about a foot away. Emma raised their joined hands straight up above Regina's head, then slowly lowered her hands to Emma's shoulders. Releasing Regina's hands, she languidly ran her palms up the brunette's bare arms, shocked sparks didn't fly as she did. They continued their amazing journey, moving unhurried from Regina's shoulders and down her sides, stopping at her trim hips. _Jesus, she's tiny._

"There," Emma husked, her throat suddenly very tight. She had to clear it to continue. "Now, _feel_ the music. A- 5, 6, 7, 8..."

The pair danced back and forth to the beat, Emma gently pushing Regina's hips in time; they relaxed quickly under the splayed hands guiding her. Pitbull slid effortlessly into UB40's cover of "(I Can't Help) Falling In Love With You." The pace dropped naturally, smooth and gentle. "Oh, my God, I love this song," Emma grinned.

As they rocked and swayed, Emma continued to guide her partner's hips. And even though her grip was light, Regina felt every fingertip through her dress, as if they were on fire, exquisite pressure alighting all the nerve endings within reach.

"Nice!" Emma enthused. "How are you doing?" Tilting her head, she tried to meet Regina's eyes. "You're very quiet."

Truth be told, Regina could barely function, between trying to follow Emma's instructions and attempting not to spontaneously combust due to their close proximity. She was so close she could smell coconut and vanilla. _Was it bodywash? Shampoo?_ Entranced, her eyes refused to leave the cascade of blonde curls flowing past Emma's shoulder blades. Regina's hands were glued to rock-hard shoulders underneath smooth, soft silk. She was afraid to move them, lest she either bury them in that lush hair or engulf the woman in a hug. Restless, they wanted to roam and find out where else Emma was hard as a rock or soft as down. If she was this mesmerized just by touching the woman's shoulders, Regina was certain laying hands anywhere below her the woman's neck would surely give her a stroke.

"This is good," Regina replied measuredly, lips pursed in concentration.

"Is it fun?"

"It's getting there."

"Just 'getting there'?" Emma's brow creased in faux despair. "Oh." She tried like hell to pout but couldn't even get close, causing Regina to chuckle. "Well, _I_ am having a great time. I'll try harder for you, though." Emma scooted closer, hands moving around low on Regina's back. The women were so close now it made their precious dancing impossible without tripping each other. This left them swaying in time, bodies nearly entwined. The lack of space forced Regina's hands off Emma's shoulders and onto her lower back. They held onto each other, swaying, heads parallel as they looked over each other's shoulder and swam in titillating sensation.

Emma wondered if she overplayed her hand as soon as UB40 turned into…. _oh, shit:_ R. Kelly's "Ignition." She didn't want to look Regina in the eyes, fearing she'd see panic and quickly feel the woman untangle herself from Emma's arms. But she had to, they were too close for it to be an accident, and they sure as shit weren't doing any type of dance that needed formal instruction.

Emma swallowed and pulled back from Regina's shoulder, catching her gaze. She was met with hooded brown eyes and parted lips.

"This better?" Emma croaked. _Jesus, real smooth, asshole._

Regina was still able-minded enough to process the fact that this position led ultimately to a very specific end to the evening. She could pull away now, citing heat or tiredness, and return to the booth for a drink with a lovely woman. No harm, no foul. Or, she could hang on for this ride, this woman, whom she had been watching and fantasizing about for months.

"Much," she shuddered, a shaky breath escaping with the syllable. Unable to resist any further temptation, she committed, stepping fully into Emma's hold, wedging Emma's right thigh between her legs, as high as decorum allowed. A thunderbolt of arousal rocketed to Emma's groin, and she thanked every god she could think of as the pair began to gently roll their hips in time, resting her foreheads against each other.

Neither woman spoke, it was unnecessary, their bodies speaking loudly and clearly for them. Instead, they concentrated on absorbing the mind-altering sensations their union was producing, radiating from the top of their heads to the tips of their toes. All they felt was the music and each other, Christ, did they feel each other. The crowd, the club, the music, it all faded away, hazy and low.

All their senses were consumed by each other. The sound of breathing. The smell of perfume. The feel of warmth beneath their fingers, and hard bodies moving under thin clothing. The ambient noise thrumming in their ears. Only one sense remained, hanging out in the air, unanswered, waiting patiently.

Emma spread her legs wider and bent a little more at her knees, changing their angle and increasing their collective friction, Regina's delicious heat on her thigh. The circular roll of Emma's hips, the friction, the heat, the darkness. It all conspired to get Regina as aroused as she could remember. Was it the thrill of the forbidden? Months of visual foreplay and mental fantasies? The sensations were making it hard to hold her head up, she yearned to bury it in the crook of Emma's neck and run her tongue up corded muscle.

Emma's throat was tight, and she could feel a charge in the air as Prince began moaning the first few measures of "Cream." Even though they were moving slowly, her heart was beating so hard it felt like she was in a foot race. She lifted her right hand off Regina's back and moved it behind her neck, burying fingers in thick, black hair. Regina answered with a sly smile and slowly turned around, backing up fully into Emma, who held her around the waist and began rolling their bodies together in a slow, steady pace. On instinct, Regina lifted her left arm and draped it up and behind her, resting it on Emma's neck, her other hand resting on Emma's arm around her waist. Luxuriating in the feel of Regina's head against her cheek, the last thing Emma expected to hear was a teasing, "Uh oh," from the woman in her arms.

"What's wrong?" she whispered, so close Regina could feel lips move against her ear.

"Redhead."

For the first time since they hit the dance floor, Emma looked somewhere else other than Regina. She saw the woman she danced with earlier trying to kill Regina with a menacing stare.

"She looks like she wants to kick my ass," Regina snickered, squeezing the arm around her waist. "I didn't know you two were a thing."

"We're not," Emma replied thickly. She spun Regina around to wedge her in between her legs once more and grind. She cradled the back of Regina's head and leaned in, holding her eyes. "I'm taken."

Regina's breath hitched as Emma leaned in and brought their lips together. The kiss was slow at first, tentative, but quickly skyrocketed in intensity as mouths opened and warm tongues met, stroking in time to the beat their hips were following. Their mouths separated, slowly, as if they moved too fast they'd wake up and each be in their own bedroom, alone. Regina held onto Emma's lower lip for an extra few seconds with her teeth, then released it with a sly smile. The grin grew larger as she spotted Emma's eyes, wide with surprise.

"Regina, can I be honest?" she asked tremulously, moving from a body roll to hip circles.

Brown eyes narrowed in concern.

Emma leaned in to whisper in the delicate shell of an ear: "I am going to have an orgasm in about 2 minutes if I stay here dancing with you, or in about 45 minutes holding you in my arms in a bed. Which do you prefer?"

Regina nearly came on the spot, a shudder rippling down her spine, so strong Emma could feel it beneath her fingers.

"The latter," she breathed, finally nuzzling Emma's neck, her tongue laving a spot under the blonde's ear.

"Let's get out of here," Emma whimpered, untangling their bodies and taking Regina's hand as they strided off the dance floor to their booth. Emma grabbed Regina's coat to help her into it, then stopped.

"Wait." She laid the coat back on the seat and gently held both of Regina's hands, looking straight into her eyes. Regina sobered quickly, a rush of fear chilling her.

"If we're going to do this…" Emma sighed, heavy. "You have to know one thing: It can't go beyond tonight." Her green eyes looked impossibly sad for someone about to get naked with an incredibly hot woman.

Regina opened her mouth to speak, but found a finger gently placed against her lips.

"Please let me finish. I think you are amazing. I haven't been interested in someone for…forever," she closed her eyes as if the words hurt. "But Granny has a rule that teachers cannot get involved with parents. I understand it, and it's never been a problem...until now."

She paused to suck in a deep breath as Regina continued to gaze at her with soft eyes. "I love teaching kids to dance. It's not a money thing, it's for love. And as tempted as I am to quit tomorrow and see where we could go, I don't think I could do that. I don't want to deceive you, I won't. And if that means you don't want to leave me with me, that's…that's OK." Emma looked away for a second, Regina swore she could see a glint of moisture in her eyes.

Sure that Emma was finished, Regina spoke softly, slowly: "So, we would just have tonight?"

Emma nodded solemnly, her eyes cast toward the floor. _I can't watch her say no._

She felt her hands squeezed gently and looked up. "Then let's have tonight," Regina whispered, a small smile on her face, eyes radiant. "I think you're amazing, too, and I appreciate your honesty."

"Really?" Emma smiled, relief flooding her chest

"Yes, now, help me with my coat?" Regina commanded with a flirty smile and turned slightly backing her ass into Emma's front.

"Yes, ma'am!"

 **TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

**Three important notes:**

 **1\. I didn't end the last chapter when I did just to be a tease. Promise. The last chapter was very intense from a writing perspective. I had to create a new setting (the club), OC (Don), and describe some sexy, hot dancing, which was super complicated, as I'm not a dancer. Writing dancing is almost as hard, for me, as writing a sex scene - what goes where, why, making sure I didn't break the rules of physics or give someone an extra hand, etc. Then I had to layer in all the sights, sounds, sensations, etc. So it took more time and brain power than normal. (Seriously, I watched a stupid amount of dance videos on YouTube.) Anyway, I had to end the chapter and reset my brain. Because I knew the next chapter would be just as demanding. ;-)**

 **2\. At the beginning of last chapter I asked for your feedback, noting it really helps me improve the story. And, sure enough, you guys were great. Especially a few commenters who questioned some key motivation. That sat with me (in a good way) and led to a lengthy addition to the chapter following this one. That chapter was already written and done, but when I thought about what they said, I added basically another half a chapter to it that I think much better rounds out the story. And those changes led to some fun stuff in Ch. 8. So, seriously, THANK YOU. Your thoughts are incredibly helpful and lead to better, and in this case longer, stories. Please keep it up. And please do that for *every* fic writer you enjoy. It's all we get.**

 **3\. This chapter is Explicit — capital E. If that is not your thing, skip this and meet me at Chapter 7.**

While it wasn't romantic, taking separate cars back to Emma's loft was a necessity. Neither could leave her car at the club overnight, and at the rate they were going, they likely would have driven off the road at some point due to their inability to keep their hands off each other.

The ride was 25 minutes, a time during which Emma kept one eye on the road and the other glued to the Mercedes in the rear view mirror to ensure Regina didn't lose her, or — her greatest fear — hang a hard right and bail.

Emma felt her chest relax as she pulled into her building's parking lot, the black car still on her tail. She stopped and quickly hopped out, directing Regina to the visitor spot next to her's. Leaning against her Jeep, she tried to project casual confidence, but inside she was running riot: half ecstatic about impending congress with the most gorgeous woman she had ever seen and half panicked that the time apart killed the mood.

Emma watched the door open. A sleek black stiletto hit the pavement, followed by another. Her eyes made their way up slim legs and a trim waist, over a generous, firm chest, and ended at an exquisite face bearing a shy smile.

"No problem following?"

"Not tailing that," Regina smirked, nodding at the bright yellow Wrangler.

"See, and they told me yellow was just ostentatious."

Regina took Emma's offered palm and they walked hand in hand to the front door of the building, which opened via a magnetic card.

"This was…"

"A former elementary school," Emma finished, leading her visitor to the main staircase. "I'm one floor up, second grade."

They reached Emma's door halfway down a wide hallway and entered, Emma tossing her keys in a bowl by the door. She stood behind Regina and helped her out of her coat, hanging it on a hook on the wall. Regina turned and smiled bashfully: "Hi." Her voice was soft and small, not at all that of the woman who was grinding into her less than an hour earlier. Emma knew she needed to fix this — fast.

Stepping forward, she gently took Regina's hands and kissed each one on the knuckles. "Would you like a drink?"

"No."

"Bathroom?"

"No."

She moved one step closer and draped her arms over the shorter woman's shoulders. "Watch the Bruins game? They're on the West Coast; we could catch the third period."

Regina laughed softly. "I'm good." But was she? She looked at Emma and her debate over whether this was a good idea after all intensified. She could easily leave with a kiss and a thank you.

"Wait, I know what you need." Emma smiled softly and pulled Regina further into the room. She looked around, and for the first time appraised the space. The open floor plan featured a living room that led to a kitchen behind a half wall. On the left, there was a small dining area, a couple of book cases, and two doors, which she assumed led to the bathroom and a bedroom. A ladder on the far wall extended up to a loft that overlooked the apartment.

Regina was so busy looking around, trying to match Emma to the space, she didn't notice she was being gently pulled into the blonde's arms into some approximation of a formal dance pose: hands clasped and bent at the elbows, Emma's arm on Regina's waist, Regina's on Emma's shoulder. "Kick those toe killers off," Emma requested gently. Regina did, instantly losing 3 inches to her dance partner. "Oh, God, you're so cute, come here."

"We dance well together," she breathed into Regina's ear. They really weren't dancing as much as holding onto the each other rocking, but Regina wasn't about to complain. " _Emma, I can't dance_ ," Emma trilled in a high-pitched voice, mocking the brunette in her arms.

A loud laugh rang out as Regina playfully slapped Emma's chest. "Stop."

" _I can't, Emma! I have the most amazing body you've ever seen and I can't move it,_ " Emma giggled, resting her forehead on Regina's shoulder, shaking with laughter. This was fun.

Regina beamed. "Stop, you." Emma lifted her head and rested her forehead against Regina's. "I think I proved that you were right," Regina noted. "I just needed the right teacher."

Emma moved in close until they were touching chest to groin. She let go of Regina's hand for a second to tap her phone. The distinctive three-note wah wah guitar intro to "Let's Get It On" slithered out of a wireless speaker.

"That you did." Emma started swaying the pair to the beat, unhurried, all the time in the world.

"Miss Swan, is this your patented seduction playlist?" Emma felt a giggle ripple through Regina's chest, followed by soft black hair finding rest on her shoulder. The weight felt comfortable, right.

"This is my Friday Seduction Playlist. Come back tomorrow, it's Barry White Night."

"Does that work on all the girls?"

Emma Eskimo kissed Regina, lips split in a grin. "Women, sweetheart. Women...And, yes, all three of them. I've got quite the streak." She felt Regina loosen and melt into her. She began to gently roll their hips together, trying to spark another inferno. "I took the deli counter ticket holder out of the bedroom, though. It freaked out two of them."

Regina tittered. "You're very funny."

"I like to laugh." She lowered her head and whispered into the curve of Regina's ear. "And kiss." Regina's lips not quite accessible with her head on Emma's shoulder, the blonde's tongue found her partner's neck and licked and lightly sucked, hoping she'd get the hint. She quickly did, lifting her head, lips meeting Emma's with purpose. Mouths opened quickly, tongues finding hot, wet, thrilling places to slowly explore.

Still attached by the mouth, Emma let go of Regina's hands so she could pull her silk shirt out of her pants and move Regina's hands to bare skin. She felt Regina moan, then pull away. "Take your shirt off." The request was direct and low, fanning the rising heat in Emma's groin. Wordlessly, Emma set a new record for unbuttoning, letting the shirt drop to the floor. She stood in front of Regina in a navy bra, defined abs on proud display.

"Something you wanted to see?" she teased, arms stretched out to her sides, palms up.

"Christ, yes."

Regina reached out cautiously, maroon-tipped fingers hesitating just a second before splaying themselves across the taut six-pack. Her hands moved slowly up, out, and around, trying to feel soft skin over hard muscle all at once. "God," she husked, dropping to her knees so she could lick a path up Emma's torso.

Emma's eyes nearly rolled back in her head, dizzy from the sensation and the visual of this stunning woman on her knees in front of her. Her clit ached in need.

"Regina…" she panted, "let's get you somewhere comfortable for that...and promise me you'll continue." The brunette smiled up at the request, nipping the toned stomach playfully. Emma squeaked and held out her hand to help Regina up, then literally swept her off her feet and into the bedroom.

Sitting on the end of Emma's bed, Regina took in the room. Landscape photos of woods and what she assumed was The Cape graced the walls, but the space was dominated by a king-size slatted sleigh bed. "This is quite the bed," she noted, stroking a seafoam green down comforter.

"I like my space." Emma smirked and went to unzip her pants.

"Wait! Let me."

Emma stepped directly in front of Regina, legs shoulder width apart. Regina buttoned the smooth dress pants and slid them down muscular thighs, her hands trailing their way down strong, muscular legs, feeling all the skin they could. Leaning in, she nuzzled the blonde over her underwear, feeling a tiny rustle of hair under the fabric. She breathed in, embracing Emma's arousal and heat, and licked a salty path just above her underwear, near a tiny swell of belly.

Breath shuddered out of Emma so jagged, it sounded painful. Anchoring her hands in Regina's hair, Emma tried to maintain her balance as the woman laved her abs with her tongue, sucking here and there for good measure and running her hands around to her ass. Moaning in pleasure, Regina palmed and stroked as much flesh as she could reach, then lowered her fingers below Emma's ass, lightly stroking her inner thighs.

"Regina…" Emma's throat was so tight she could barely croak out a syllable. "Baby, I need to get on the bed."

Stepping out of the pants puddle on the floor, Emma looked down on at the brunette. "I need to feel you," she groaned, pulling Regina up to her feet. The brunette stood and glanced over her shoulder, casting a wicked smile as Emma unzipped her dress from behind. The air was hot and thick, practically humming with the sounds of soft, shallow breathing and a zipper giving way.

If Emma was dumbstruck by how Regina looked with clothes on, the sight of her in just a black lace bra and g string was going to make her to stroke out. Emma's hands followed the path of the dress as it descended to the floor, rubbing creamy skin along the way. Once the dress had landed, Emma stepped in and pressed her entire body into Regina's, kissing her neck. One hand reached around to tease stiff nipples still hidden by fabric, the other slid down, rubbing soft circles over her still-covered groin. Regina tipped her head back to give Emma as much room as possible, panting rhythmically through parted lips.

"As pretty as this is," Emma began, unhooking the bra, "it has to go." Regina nodded mutely, currently incapable of speech, the sensations rampaging her body deliciously overloading her synapses.

Lace removed, warm hands met hard peaks, pinching and tugging, lips still assaulting Regina's neck from behind. Virtually unable to lay hands on Emma, Regina placed hers over the blonde's as they continued their exquisite assault. "Harder," she mewled. Emma increased the pressure and began to twist a nipple, then snaked her index finger into Regina's panties. She slowly slipped in between slick folds, finding blazing heat and an abundance of arousal.

"Fuck, you're so wet," she hissed into Regina's ear, as the brunette's hips bucked violently, seeking friction.

"I need you now," she pleaded, untangling herself, pulling off her underwear, and turning to face her new lover. Shocked at the near whine in her voice, she had never been this wet, this hot, this needy. Emma simply stared at the vision before her: all soft curves, smooth skin, and reeking of sex. Emma worried if she moved too quickly, she'd come on the spot, she could practically feel her clit throbbing.

Regina crawled onto the bed, ass swaying, then rolled over spreading her legs, a thin strip of curls beckoning her in. "Fuck me," she hissed, her flushed chest rising and falling rapidly.

A soft gasp escaped as Emma closed her eyes in concentration, willing off an early orgasm as a shiver ripped up her spine. She pulled her damp index finger to her mouth and sucked, relishing the taste, the scent, as she stared at the naked vision open on her bed. Confident she could move and not come on the spot like an overheated 16-year-old, she crawled on top of Regina and kissed her soundly, burying two fingers inside searing heat.

"Need more," she gasped.

Emma complied, adding a third and curling them for good measure, stroking the front wall, searching for the right angle.

"Harder, pl—" she couldn't even finish the syllable as Emma sped up, rocking into the petite body with all her force she could muster behind her fingers. The bed frame, though sturdy, began to creak. Emma sucked, tongued, and nibbled on Regina's chest at a pace as furious as her fingers. "God, I love your tits," she moaned between mouthfuls.

Emma continued to jackhammer Regina's sex as the brunette cried, "Harder! Fuck me!" Problem was, Regina was so wet, Emma had a hard time finding friction, even with the tight grip wet, delicious muscle held on her fingers. She had an idea and slowed her thrusts, then pulled out.

"What are you doing?" Regina asked, breathing heavily.

Emma rolled over, left hand still tweaking a nipple, while hanging off the mattress and fishing around in her night table with her right. She soon turned with a devilish grin and a black harness dangling off one finger.

"You game?" she huffed, still trying to catch her breath.

Brown eyes narrowed in anticipation. "Yes."

Emma quickly rolled off the bed, stepped into the harness and completed it with a substantial silicone dildo sporting a flared head. Returning, she poised it at Regina's entrance and looked her in the eyes before pushing in.

"Go slow at first," she whispered. "It's been a while."

Emma leaned down and kissed her slowly, softly, as she smoothly slid into Regina's slick heat. The woman was so wet, Emma had little problem pushing in all the way. She began a slow, shallow pace, gradually elongating her strokes and speeding up a little.

"OK?"

"Mmmmm," she smiled, eyes closed. "Harder...I'm good."

Emma moved faster, more powerful, as Regina drew her knees up high, legs splayed wide, for maximum access. The blonde's quads and thighs contracted, rock hard, as she started to thrust in earnest, huffing and moaning in exertion. On a hunch, she tried a little experiment.

"Take it, baby. Take it all," she growled, only to be rewarded with Regina's hips lifting up higher and harder to meet her, groans answering. "Huh, huh, huh," soft rhythmic pants puffed out between lipstick-smeared lips.

"Oh, you like that?" Emma wanted to cringe listening to herself, it sounded so ridiculous. But the effect on Regina was like paint thinner on a fire. She answered with a moan that Emma assumed meant "yes." "Shit, baby, I'm gonna fuck you All. Night. Long." Teeth clenched in a rigid jaw, she punctuated the last three words with powerful, fast thrusts. A loud, strangled cry rose above the haze of heavy breathing. Regina looked up, flushed with exertion, and bore into green eyes, bucking wildly as she dug her fingers into her either side of Emma's ass: "I love your cock. Fuck my pussy! Fuck my pussy!"

Emma moaned and pumped harder, breasts swinging wildly as she pounded away, body slick with sweat. Bodies slapped together, the smell of sex enveloping them, the air, and the bed. "I'm close," Emma groaned, trying to hold off a tsunami of sensation seconds away.

"I want your cum," Regina demanded, eyes closed, chasing the peak. "Cum in me!"

The demand pushed Emma over the top with a long, guttural moan, still pumping furiously. Regina whimpered, bucking frantically, cries tumbling out sharp and powerful. Emma felt the orgasm hanging and knew they weren't done, continuing to thrust away.

"More. Come for me, baby!"

"Too sensitive," she whimpered. "Can't."

"Yes, you can," she panted, pushing through, "come on my cock!"

Regina's clit pulsed so hard it was almost painful. She screamed in pure ecstasy, overwhelmed, cries muffled in Emma's shoulder in which she sunk her teeth.

"FUCK!" Emma erupted. She didn't expect a love bite, the surprise enough to push her over the edge completely, pinpricks of light exploding against her eyelids. Her brain short circuited, forcing her to stop, legs splayed, every muscle in her body stretched taut as she rode out the powerful wave, stiff as a board. Still sheathed in Regina, she slowly lowered herself on top of her, as they tried to catch their breath. Regina reached up and smiled, blissful, boneless, and exhausted, cradling Emma's cheek in her hand. Drunk on each other and still breathing heavily, they began to giggle, no words were necessary.


	7. Chapter 7

**Guys, I hate this website. I post a chapter, reformat and it still strips out scene breaks, etc. It's too much work to post then try to repost. I will continue the story — starting with the real Ch 7, right now, over at AO3, which is much more user-friendly for me. Search for FlyYouFools/MK47 and you'll find it. I'd post a link but this awful site strips them out.**


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks to all who followed this story over to AO3. Chapter 8 is now available there. I will continue to publish "updates" here alerting you to a new chapter. I believe there will be 10 chapters total. Thanks again.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 up on AO3.


	10. Chapter 10

Good news: Ch 10 is up and it is *not* the last chapter. Decided to split what I had left, still working on the final chapter. But enjoy Ch 10 for the time being. Thanks.


	11. Chapter 11

Last chapter of In Time is up on AO3. Enjoy.


	12. Chapter 12

Surprise! I didn't intend to write an Epilogue, but I came up with one, anyway. Hope you enjoy, it's up at AO3. Thanks for supporting this story.


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